


The Cavendish Group

by gloss



Category: Homestuck
Genre: HSWC, M/M, Post-Sburb/Sgrub, idiot boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 02:37:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>HSWC <a href="http://hs-worldcup.dreamwidth.org/3493.html?thread=916133#cmt916133">prompt</a>: "You didn't feel my penis, it was a banana" (thefrogman).</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cavendish Group

"Dude, your dick's poking me." Dave didn't sound all that upset, or shocked, or even very interested. John had been kneeling behind him, arms over his shoulders, to show him the controls on A Very Long Examination of Conflicting Imperial Ambitions, Romantic Entanglements, Historical Inaccuracies, and Galactic Conquests, Featuring Six Off-World Battles, Zero-Gravity Cutscenes, Customizable Horn Shapes (But Not Gender-Specific Attire Until the Expansion Pack), and A Surfeit of Subtle Product Placement. 

Sure, Dave had spent three years with the trolls, but _John_ was the one who mastered their video game. (With a lot of help from Dave's hot teen mom, that is.)

The pride over that fact now evaporated away in the face of flaming embarrassment. Stupid John, Jr., what's _wrong_ with you?

"No, that was a, a, a -- banana!" John scooted away as far as he could before getting tangled in the sheet and hitting the wall. Not quite looking at Dave, he added, "Yeah, a banana. Haha, pranking maestro in the house."

"Banana," Dave said. His voice was flat - like always! John reminded himself, that's just Dave, good old deadpan Dave, wouldn't have him any other way! - as he shifted back. 

"Yeah, banana! Chockful of nutrients and vitamins, oh how I love me some bananas."

"Always been an apple man, myself."

John chuckled. It didn't sound right. It sort of sounded more like a cackle. Possibly a snicker. He swallowed - his mouth was totally dry all of a sudden! - and tried again.

Dave turned his head at the sound. John saw himself, two of himself, reflected in distorted miniature in Dave's shades. He was shaped like a bowling pin, tiny head and big spreading waist. His whole genital and genital-adjacent area was _huge_.

When Dave looked away, John carefully, oh so carefully and stealthily, inched his hand across his right leg toward his crotch. He really needed to adjust things in there. It wouldn't be obvious. He'd be the ninja of dick-adjustment. He could do this.

"Need some help?" Dave asked.

John froze. In Dave's sunglasses, his reflection made him look like he was wielding a giant claw at his crotch. The longer he looked, the more frozen he became. At first it was just muscles refusing to move, but then his blood stopped, went silent, and his skin stiffened. First like papier maché, then like asphalt.

"Ha?" John tried. His voice squeaked like it hadn't in _years_. 

"Limited time offer, Egbert."

Maybe it was because he himself was frozen, but John could have sworn that Dave went liquid. Boneless, maybe, as he just plain _poured_ himself through the space between them until he was right up in front of John.

"Going fast," Dave said. "Whaddaya say?"

"No fair," John managed to get out. "Can't use time powers --"

"Didn't," Dave said. His face was really close. His breath was hot and it smelled like Doritos. "I'm just fast."

"I was trying to be stealth," John said. This close, he couldn't see himself in the shades except as a mess of details, incomprehensible.

"You suck at stealth."

"Yeah."

Dave's mouth was a little chapped in the corners. John stared at the frail skin there, curling, ragged, exposing pinker, newer layers.

"Dave --"

One second, Dave was there - close, but separate - and then in a gulp, a breeze, a _nothing_ of time, he was _here_ , covering John like a blanket (a skinny, bony, hot-flushed blanket), mouth on John's chin, then his lips. His knee was planted between John's legs, then pressed right up against the traitorous dick; his hands grasped John's upper arms. His fingers couldn't reach all the way around, John noted like he was observing from far away.

"You need so much help," Dave muttered against John's cheek. His tongue was fiery, his glasses askew.

"Do not."

"Do so."

"Do -" Before John could say "not", Dave was kissing him again.

"Shut up," Dave said against John's teeth. He pressed John back even harder, flattening him against the wall, holding him tight as a little kid holds a balloon, like he was scared to let go.

John's dick throbbed at the contact, strained in his shorts like the rest of his entire body, reaching for more. He twisted his hand - still trapped between them - and cupped Dave's hard-on.

Wow, he was --. This felt --. He willed himself to stop thinking. It was painful. Dave felt hot and hard but also weirdly tender through his pants and he was sort of holding himself tremblingly still.

John let the air out of his lungs, then sucked it back in. "Hey, hey, wanna hear a riddle?"

"No," Dave said, teeth on John's chin. But he pushed his crotch into John's hand.

"What's bigger than a banana?"

"Christ." Dave groaned and actually made a face, an expression that twisted up and tightened as he went - ha! - _stiff_.

If John were to let himself think about what was happening - this seemed to be some sort of makeout session with extra bonus handjobs, holy shit?! - he would go nuts and probably die on the spot, or at least run away, or stop, or something equally epically tragic. So he didn't think about any of that. He just watched Dave's mouth make the most interesting corkscrew pursed-up shapes, and he moved his hand in an echo of the stuttering jumps that Dave's hips were making.

"Well?" Dave said, voice strained, tendons standing out in his neck. "What's bigger than - than a -"

John tightened his hold on Dave and tipped his head back, trying to look up under Dave's shades. His mouth hurt from kissing. He wanted to kiss some more.

"Papaya," he said but the syllables got smeared around and broken and drowned in spit when he kissed Dave and that was okay because Dave was about to come in his pants and John knew he was right behind and his toes were curling and he was thrusting up and he'd never, ever expected that zippers could be so erotic, maybe he was super kinky but he didn't care and anyway Dave was making weird panting sounds into John's mouth that flashed right to his spinal cord and the USDA recommends four to six servings of fruit a day so they were --.

He wanted to feel Dave come. The thought, just like that, shone bright and simple in his mind, pushing everything else away. He'd always kind of thought that sex would be like super-extra-better jacking off.

But it was that thought, just that, just _Dave + come_ , that made him grab and cling as he spasmed up into a jackknife and dragged Dave with him, grinding up against him, biting his cheek until he couldn't think or breathe, just burn.

 

[end]


End file.
